Beginning with praise of London as the richest ground of romance discoverable in the world, he proceeded to tell the story of a cats'-meat woman who, after purveying for the cats at a West End mansion for many years, discovered one day that the master of the house was her own son.
"He behaved to her very handsomely.

At this moment she is living in a pleasant little villa out Leatherhead way.

You see her driving herself in a little donkey-carriage, and throwing bits of meat to pussy-cats at the cottage doors.

Touch of nature that, isn't it?
By the by, you were speaking of a family named Gildersleeve." He added this, absently looking about the little room, which just now they had to themselves.
"Know anything about them ?" asked Gammon, eyeing him curiously.
"I was just going to say--ah, yes, to be sure, the Gildersleeves.

Now I wonder, Gammon--forgive me, I can't help wondering--_why_ this family interests you." "Oh, nothing.